TREASURE

Amma's worn notebook fell from the attic box, pages yellowed with decades of handwritten Thiruppavai verses. My grandmother had transcribed the sacred Tamil hymn in her careful script, each letter a prayer whispered across oceans. In Toronto, surrounded by diaspora friends who'd scattered like seeds, I found myself translating those verses into a group chat. Something shifted. Cousins in Chennai, aunts in Singapore, cousins in London suddenly reconnected through our shared language and devotion. That notebook became our treasure—not monetary wealth, but something richer. A bridge spanning continents, binding us through inherited spirituality. The verses reminded us: home isn't just a place, it's the people you carry within you.